


The Crookshank Tales

by Dolimir



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-05
Updated: 2011-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-20 04:23:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolimir/pseuds/Dolimir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can one cat keep a Slytherin from becoming a Death Eater? Maybe with a little help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “I was here first, Ugly.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've never been in the Harry Potter fandom, although I have written stories to amuse myself. This story was written in 2004.

Draco blinked in surprise as a large ginger furred cat jumped onto the window seat and made a big production of lying in the empty spot by his feet.

“Excuse me, but this space is occupied.”

The cat’s tail slashed once in annoyance against his shin, but other than the one physical tick it gave him no other reaction. Draco fought to maintain his sneer, but it gradually morphed into a genuine smile. Apparently, he wasn’t the only creature to discover or appreciate the secluded nook. And while he wasn’t particularly looking for company, he couldn’t help but appreciate the cat’s haughty air which told anyone looking at it that it had just as much right to this spot of sun as Draco did.

Draco nudged the cat once with his boot, glad that he hadn’t shucked them the moment he arrived. After all, he didn’t fancy being bitten. The cat ignored his prodding.

“I was here first, Ugly.” While his words clearly stated his ownership of the windowsill, he knew his tone was entirely too conciliatory. The cat purred loudly and laid its squashed face on Draco’s boot.

“Oh, all right.”

Draco remembered discovering the nook in his second year. His parents had been abroad over the Christmas holidays and he had spent his free time dodging Potter and his cohorts, studying and exploring the upper abandoned floors of the school. Despite what everyone thought about Slytherins, the dungeons had always been too cold for his liking. This particular window faced outward over the cliffs and received sunlight all day long. The ledge was more than large enough for him to lounge and study at the same time.

In his fourth year he had gotten the brilliant idea to place a divan pillow on the ledge, which had made his visits a lot more comfortable. The fabric had long since lost its vibrancy, but it was still as comfortable as ever.

In his final year, Draco found himself spending more and more time in seclusion. His father had escaped Azkaban and had become Vordemort’s right hand man. The students and the faculty were gearing up for the coming battle. Most of the Slytherins were making plans to join their parents and the rest of the school took it for granted that the entire house would be gone by Christmas.

Draco found himself in a unique position. He had no desire to become a minion to the Dark Lord, but then again, he had no wish to fight against him either. Life was too short. He had plans and dying in someone else’s war had absolutely no appeal to him. Once he passed his NEWTs, he had every intention of traveling to one of the colonies. After all, he still had his grandmother’s inheritance, something no one could take away from him. It would be enough to live a very comfortable life away from Death Eaters, Dementors and Do-Gooders.

All he had to do was hold on for eight more months. But it was getting harder with each passing day. While he was in the school proper, he could maintain an aloofness that the Malfoys made famous, but here in this tiny bit of sun, he could relax his mask.

The cat, who had been idly rubbing its chin against the tip of Draco’s boot, suddenly got to its feet and stalked toward the bag by his hip, sniffing with great interest.

“That. Is. Mine.”

Draco tried to push the cat away, but it rubbed against his hands and purred louder.

“I mean it.”

The cat ignored him as it turned its ears so Draco could scratch its ears.

Running his thumb down the cat’s nose, Draco sighed, knowing he was beat. “All right, but only one piece.”

Ten minutes later they both lounged on their backs on the sill, sated and sleepy.

“I just want it understood that I will pretend I don’t know you if we meet in any other area of the school.”

The cat rubbed the back of its head against Draco’s chin, telling him that he not only understood but the reciprocal was true as well.


	2. “Thank you, but I’ve already had dinner.”

“Thank you, but I’ve already had dinner.” Draco looked down at the dead mouse adorning his Transfiguration essay, then over at the ginger haired cat sitting beside him.

The cat pawed twice at the lifeless gift, then looked expectantly at Draco.

“Why yes, he does look rather plump, but I’m stuffed. Honest.”

If Draco didn’t know better, he’d have sworn the cat rolled its eyes at him in disgust.

“I’m missing the point, am I?”

The cat swatted the mouse’s body further down the paper.

“Look, Ugs, if you keep this up Professor McGonagall is going…” Draco’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. “Why, Uggles, how positively Slytherin of you.”

Leaning forward, Draco scratched the cat’s shoulders. When he was done with his ministrations, he lifted the carcass from his scroll and handed it back to the cat, who delicately accepted it then walked to the far corner of the ledge and began gnawing on its head.

Draco knew his paper was outstanding, but he also knew that McGonagall would grade it with the same prejudiced eyes Snape used against the Gryffindors. A little added incentive never hurt. He just wished he’d come up with the idea himself six years ago.


	3. “I thought perhaps you had thrown me over for Mrs. Norris.”

Hermione Granger was stumped. For nearly four months, she hadn’t received a single complaint about Crookshanks trying to eat the pets of her fellow students. She wasn’t sure if the other pets were simply getting wilier or if Crookshanks had found other things to amuse him.

With war looming on the horizon, Hermione had made the decision to stay at school over the holidays. She knew that going home would only make her household a target, so she decided the best way to protect her parents was not to put them in harm’s way in the first place.

Ron had gone home and had invited both her and Harry to join his family. While Harry was staying the whole holiday at the Burrow, she decided she would spend only a few days around Christmas. As much as she loved the Weasley clan, there was always some drama, chase or act of chaos going on, and she thought it best to enjoy a little quiet time before she joined the fray.

She spent almost all of her time studying and preparing for her NEWTS, but after a while she grew bored and her mind started to wander. Crookshanks caught her attention when he sleepily raised his head off her pillow and appeared to be checking the position of the sun. He slowly uncurled himself from a stuffed teddy bear and took several moments to stretch his legs and body. When he was done with his ritual, he rubbed against her affectionately, then jumped off her bed to the floor.

“Where are you going?” she called out after him.

But he ignored her, acting very much like he was running late for an appointment. Her curiosity was piqued and she decided to follow him for the lack of anything better to do. When he reached the door that lead out of the common room, he turned and waited patiently for her to open it, then jogged to the moving stairs.

She got separated from him when the stairs decided to change positions, but she watched his progress upward and spotted his ultimate destination. It took her nearly five minutes to work her way to the same landing.

Stepping into the hallway, she was surprised to hear a sleepy voice echoing along the corridor.

“Hallo, Ugly.”

The startled voice seemed to be coming from behind her and she spun with a retort on her lips, only to find the hallway empty.

“I thought perhaps you had thrown me over for Mrs. Norris.”

The warm chuckle that bounced around her made Hermione smile. She tiptoed further down the corridor.

“Now don’t be that way. It was only a joke. Okay, but I brought you a shrimp. Yeah, I thought that would get your attention. But I don’t feel like giving it to you now since you decided to be a prat. Yeah? Now you warm up. Uh-huh, I see how you are.”

Hermione peeked around a corner and saw Crookshanks standing on a supine blanketed body. From her position, she couldn’t see either the head or face of the stranger talking to her cat. Crookshanks was kneading the chest under his paws and pushing his head insistently against the hands that were scratching his ears.

“Oh, all right. But you realize if anyone ever learned what a pushover I was my reputation would be ruined.”

The hands disappeared and brought out a jumbo shrimp then tore off chunks to feed to the cat.

“Not that you care. You rule the world after all, right?”

Crookshanks wolfed the bit down and took a step forward to get another bite.

“How am I suppose to stand up to the Dark Lord if I’m whipped by the world’s ugliest cat?”

Hermione started, but managed to keep silent by slapping a hand over her mouth.

Not only was Draco Malfoy feeding her cat like he had done it before, but he wanted to stand up to Voldermort as well.

She shook her head in dazed confusion. What in the world was she supposed to do with either piece of information now?


	4. “How am I suppose to stand up to the Dark Lord if I’m whipped by the world’s ugliest cat?”

Hermione paced back and forth across her bedroom, trying to find a way to calm her turbulent thoughts. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on Malfoy. After all, how was she to know that Crookshanks had been visiting the Slytherin on a near-daily basis? And just when had that little tête-à-tête begun anyway?

 _“How am I suppose to stand up to the Dark Lord if I’m whipped by the world’s ugliest cat?”_

Had Malfoy meant his statement literally? Was there even the remotest possibility that he wanted to fight on the sight of light?

Hermione shook her head in disgust. In all likelihood it probably meant that he just didn’t want to grovel in the dirt before Voldemort like his father.

Or was it simpler than that? Did Malfoy simply want be left alone? To be left out of the coming conflict entirely? She snorted humorlessly. Why should he escape the coming battle when no one else would be accorded such luxury? Born to privilege or not, he was going to have to make his choices just like everyone else.

She and Harry had speculated that most of the Slytherins students would join the Dark Lord, not because of their own personal beliefs, but because of the beliefs of their forefathers, which had been handed down for generations. Merlin knew with Lucius being Voldemort’s right hand man that everyone in Malfoy’s social circle was expecting him to take his place by his father’s side. What would happen to Draco if he decided to go against his parents’ expectations?

Hermione tiredly rubbed the heels of her hands over her face. Christmas was still a week away, so she couldn’t discuss her discovery with Harry and Ron. She winced slightly as she imagined what Ron’s reaction to her news would be. And without any solid evidence, Harry’s reaction probably wouldn’t much different.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized she was going to have to talk to Malfoy. She dropped to her bed and huffed with silent laughter. Yeah, that would go over real well. ‘Pardon me, but I happened to be eavesdropping earlier today when I heard you confessing to my cat that you didn’t want to become Voldemort’s minion.’ She’d be lucky if Malfoy didn’t hex her into next week.

But she couldn’t ignore her newly gained information either. If Malfoy wanted to fight his destiny, shouldn’t someone help him?

She briefly considered going to Dumbledore, but quickly dismissed the idea. It was a well-known fact that Malfoy didn’t trust Dumbledore. Even if Dumbledore believed her, Malfoy would deny everything when confronted and the chance to save him might be lost forever.

No, she would have to be the one to make initial contact.

But how?

She quickly disregarded the notion of talking to him during mealtime. There were at least five other, younger Slytherin students who were staying at school over the holidays. Talking to him in the Great Hall would only force Malfoy to hide behind the haughty mask he wore when dealing with anyone of a different house.

Sending him a note to meet with her somewhere private would instantly put him on guard, if he deigned to answer it at all.

She flopped back onto her bed, flinging her arms so wide that they hung over the edges of the mattress.

There was only one solution really.

She was going to have to become friends with Draco Malfoy.

She thunked the back of her head against her mattress several times. Damn, just what had her cat gotten her into this time?


	5. Some days she really hated being a Gryffindor.

Leaning against the headboard of her bed, Hermione wrung her hands in frustration as she waited for Crookshanks to awaken from his afternoon nap. The silent minutes were slowly driving her to distractions and a part of her suspected the ginger haired feline was more than aware of that fact and was torturing her on general principals.

Despite hours of trying to imagine how their meeting might go, Hermione still didn’t have a solid game plan in mind. She had finally come to the conclusion that being too rigid would probably work against her. Malfoy would undoubtedly try to push her buttons. If she was going to have any chance of succeeding, she would need to be liquid, able to flow around any obstacle he presented her.

She toed Crookshanks once in irritation, but the dratted cat didn’t even give her the satisfaction of opening an eye to glare at her.

Hermione bounded off the bed and began to pace back and forth across the small room. Maybe she was making too much out of what she had overheard. After all, despite Harry’s and Ron’s teasing, she didn’t really like the History of Magic. On more than one occasion she had contemplated dropping it. Not that she would actually do it, but she liked pretending she could. Perhaps that’s all Malfoy was doing – pretending.

Crookshanks brought her out of her reverie by rubbing against her leg on his way to the door. He then looked back at her as if demanding to know what was keeping her.

She opened the door and waved him through. “Game time,” she whispered.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Like the day before, Crookshanks made his way up the stairs with a purpose that seemed to belie his normally lazy behavior. When they reached the abandoned floor, the cat stopped and graced her with a piercing gaze as if telling her to wait.

Hermione nodded, then felt vaguely foolish for having done so. She decided to give cat three hundred heartbeats before she entered the act and began her part of the drama, wondering for the hundredth time if she had actually lost her mind or simply misplaced it.

Every synapse she had was screaming at her to go back to her room. After all, if Malfoy hexed her it might be days or even weeks before someone found her. Why should she try to save him after she had suffered from years of name-calling and abuse at his hands?

Coming to a stop on the stairway landing, she dropped her chin to her chest and sighed. Because the coming battle was about saving everyone, not just about those who believed the exact same way they did.

Some days she really hated being a Gryffindor.

Turning, she took a deep breath to steel her courage and released it slowly, then all but marched down the corridor.

She came to an abrupt stop when she finally reached the window ledge, her brain all but fritzing on the image before her.

Draco Malfoy was sound asleep. His facial features appeared almost angelic as the light of the afternoon sun streaming through the window onto his pale features. His long blond hair had slipped its binding and spread over half of his face, giving him an almost debauched look. His robe was opened and his shirt was slightly rucked, giving her an unhindered view of his tightly muscled chest. And if that weren’t enough, nuzzled in the crook of his arm, looking very proud of himself, was her traitorous cat.


	6. “So, you’ve pictured me waking up before, have you?”

Hermione took several large steps backward and closed her eyes. Not that the darkness erased the image of a sleeping Malfoy. No, that particular picture was going to be with her for quite some time to come.

She looked around frantically. What she needed was a backup plan and fast. When she settled her gaze once again on the resting duo, she noticed that Crookshanks was regarding her with amusement and she valiantly fought an overwhelming urge to wring his furry neck.

Taking a deep breath, she started forward, making a concerted effort to stomp heavily on the flagstones as she walked.

“There you are, you horrible git!” Hermione swept her cat above her head and tutted unhappily at him. “I’ve been searching the whole bloody castle for you. I thought you’d been eaten.”

“Granger?” While Malfoy appeared startled, he wasn’t able to shake to sleepiness from his voice, giving him a deeper rasp that sent chills up her spine.

Hermione didn’t have to fake a startled gasp as she looked at yawning boy and discovered that a drowsy Malfoy was even more appealing than a sleeping one. Damn her hormones for noticing anyway. “Malfoy?”

“What are you doing here?” It took him two attempts to prop himself against the stone wall and straighten his clothes. Instead of sounding arrogant, he sounded almost confused.

“I was looking for Crookshanks.” She briefly held the purring cat toward him before she cuddled him to her chest again.

“Crookshanks. Aw, so he has a name. I was beginning to wonder. I’ve been calling him Ugly.” Hermione noticed that while his words were spoken with a casual indifference, he seemed to be studying her apprehensively for some sign of a negative reaction.

Without waiting for an invitation, she plopped herself on the ledge opposite him. “Well, that he is.” She smirked, then set the cat between them. “I’m sorry I woke you. I’ve been looking for this git for almost an hour. Once I saw him, I didn’t focus on anything else.”

“That’s reassuring. Otherwise, I would have assumed you were calling me a git.”

Hermione grinned at him. “Haven’t I called you worse things?”

The return grin was practically blinding and Hermione’s heart almost stopped beating. “I suppose you have. Some of them were even justified.”

“Some of...Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?” she asked with good humor.

Malfoy huffed with silent laughter and ran his hands back through his hair. “Sorry. It takes me a few minutes to warm up to my normally delightful self.”

“Really? I always pictured you as a cranky sort when waking up.”

“So, you’ve pictured me waking up before, have you?”

“Well, no. I mean, yes. That is--”

“Don’t get your robes in a twist, Granger. I was just having you on.”

Hermione looked around the little alcove, trying to give her cheeks some time to return to their normal color. “This is a beautiful spot. Very peaceful. However, did you find it?”

Crookshanks crossed the space between them and pushed his head into Malfoy’s hand, demanding attention. Malfoy’s face softened as he scratched the cat’s jowls and neck. “Exploring,” he said distractedly. “It often cold in the dungeons. I just wanted a spot where I could get a bit of sun from time to time.”

“I hope Crookshanks hasn’t been bothering you.”

The cat flopped down on his side and exposed his stomach to Malfoy, who immediately used both hands to scratch Crookshank’s stomach. “Well, he is a demanding little prat.”

“Tell me about it. I wouldn’t advise feeding him. If you do, you’ll never get rid of him.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Well there’s nothing to be done about it now. You’re officially his bitch.”

Malfoy barked with laughter. Crookshanks lifted his head and scowled at him and Malfoy obediently started scratching the cat’s stomach again. “Apparently, I am; but at least I’m in good company.”

Hermione stood and straightened her robes. “Well, I’ll let you two be now. I apologize again for interrupting your nap.”

“Aren’t you going to take him with you?” he asked in surprise.

“Not on your life. I know better than to interrupt a scratch down.”

“But, Granger, he’s your cat.”

Laughing, Hermione shook her head even as she walked backward. “Oh, wait, look at the time.”

Malfoy grunted once in disgust. “But this is going to take another ten minutes.”

She continued down the hall. “Yeah, so?”

“Are you sure you aren’t Slytherin?” he called after her.

Without turning around, she lifted her hand and waved at him then turned the corner and headed toward the stairs. Merlin be blessed, did she just have a decent conversation with Draco Malfoy?

She hopped onto the stairs just as they started to swing to the left. It hadn’t been much of a conversation, but it was a start, most definitely a start.


	7. “Tell me, Granger, do you find that an effective Muggle studying technique?”

Draco looked up from his Arithmancy essay and frowned as he tried to identify the steady thumping noise echoing around the library. Spotting the source, he bit back a smirk and shook his head in amusement. When the rhythmic beat showed no signs of slowing or stopping, he stood and weaved his way past the empty tables.

“Tell me, Granger, do you find that an effective Muggle studying technique?”

The Gryffindor stopped pounding her head against the table and blinked at him in surprise. She pushed her bangs out of her eyes and winched a little as her fingers brushed against the red welt forming on her forehead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone else was in here.”

“Obviously.” He slipped into a chair opposite her and casually leaned back in his seat as he regarded her. “Not that I mind watching a Gryffindor practice self-flagellation, mind you, but if you had given me some warning I might have been able to sell tickets.”

“Would you have shared your earnings with me?”

“Certainly not!”

“Well, there you go.” She shrugged and leaned back in her chair, adopting his pose.

Draco was impressed with her comeback. “At least now I know where Ugly got some of his Slytherin traits.”

“Hey, there’s no need to be insulting. And his name is Crookshanks.”

“Whatever.” He was surprised to find that despite her retort she wasn’t getting upset either by his words or his presence. Instead she seemed to be regarding him with a sort of amusement. It took him a moment to realize that she really hadn’t gotten upset with him on her own behalf for quite some time. The revelation surprised him, as she was always willing to rise to the occasion when he was having a row with either the Weasel or the Hero. “What subject?”

She stared blankly at him for a moment as she processed his non sequitur, then shook her head as if clearing her thoughts. “Arithmancy. I made a careless error in the fiftieth line.”

“But you found it?”

“Yes, and corrected it.”

“So why the drum work?” Despite his raging curiosity, he shrugged to let her know he didn’t really care about her answer one way or another. Her eyes darkened and he realized he’d never get his answer if she got mad. “While you had a fairly steady beat going, I’m not sure you could have danced to it.”

Her eyes quickly lightened and shot him a goofy grin before she abruptly sobered. “I can’t be making that sort of mistake on the NEWTs.”

“True. But I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”

“Oh, and why’s that?”

He casually inspected his fingernails, not believing she had walked into such an obvious trap. “Because everyone knows I have the top score in the bag.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“Yes. Sewn up tight.”

“You realize Vector is going to be brutal when it comes to grading?”

“What? As opposed to the way she lets us slide now?”

Granger grinned at him again and he was surprised by how pretty she looked when she smiled. No sooner had he finished the thought, then he choked and had to cough in order to open his air passage again. Where in Rasputin’s name had that thought come from?

He blinked in confusion when he realized there was a glass of water in his hands.

“Here, drink this. Slowly. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Quite. Thank you.”

He took a sip of water then released a deep breath. He was stunned by the genuine worry he saw in her brown eyes. After their history together, he would have thought she would have gotten at least a sliver of joy to see him suffer, but he could find no such emotion in her face. He studied her openly and realized she was a lot more complicated than he originally believed. His father was fond of saying that observation was the key; not that he had given his father’s advice much credence once he landed in Azkaban, but perhaps his father was right in this instance. Maybe he needed to study his subject a little closer.

“You should sit at my table.” Appalled by his outburst, he cleared his throat and tried again in a more casual voice. “As this one appears to be hexed to cause harm to anyone sitting at it.”

“You think?”

“Well, your forehead is still red.”

Her hand automatically went to her forehead, but before she could answer, they both started as Crookshanks jumped onto the table and sauntered between them. Without thought, they both reached out and scratched the cat.

“It’ll also keep Ugly from having to walk back and forth between us.”

Granger chuckled again. “You’re just afraid if you get up, he’ll follow you back to your table and you’ll be stuck giving him another scratch down all by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t say...”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Pardon?”

“If I join you at your table and help you appease this monster enough so you can study in peace, what do I get?”

“Granger, admit it. Somewhere in your family tree there was a Slytherin.”

“I’ll admit no such thing.” While her voice was haughty, her eyes danced with mischief. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

“Fine.” He stood abruptly and picked up the cat. “If you sit at my table, we can bitch about Vector.”

“And make fun of Snape’s deplorable sense of fashion?”

“Of course.”

Granger shot to her feet and hurriedly stacked her books in a pile. “Done.”

Draco smirked at her, then turned toward his table while the heavy cat purred loudly in his arms. If anyone saw him, they’d no doubt think he’d lost his mind, and maybe he had. Of course, he was lucky in that everyone in his year was on holiday. If anyone should questioned him about this incident, he would simply say it was better to deal with a muggle in his own year than entertain the pathetic first and second years who seemed to be hiding from him whenever he entered the dungeons.

After all, it was simply a sanity survival measure.

That’s all.


	8. “Breathe, Granger, or you’re going to pass out.”

For the first time in seven years, Hermione wasn’t really looking forward to visiting the Burrow. That’s not to say she didn’t want to visit her friends, because she did, but she felt like her relationship with Malfoy was entering a critical stage and the thought of leaving him by himself at Hogwarts greatly distressed her.

It was commonly believed in the D.A. that most of the Slytherin students wouldn’t be returning from the holidays. If Malfoy were to meet up with his parents for the actual celebration day, there was a very good chance he’d never come back. Hermione surprised herself by realizing she wanted to see Malfoy come January. She tried to convince herself it was just because she wanted to trounce him in their NEWTS and show him that mudbloods were every bit as good if not better than purebloods. And while she could admit that she wanted to make that point to Malfoy and the other purebloods in school, she had to concede there were other reasons for wanting him to stay.

If someone had told her that she would have spent the past week companionably with Malfoy, she would have thought them off their rocker. Yet she had done just that. After breakfast, they would both make their way to the library and study at the same table, helping each other with their homework. They never spoke about anything personal, and if Hermione closed her eyes she could almost believe they were nothing more than two ordinary students preparing for final exams.

Almost.

They never ate together in the Great Hall, never so much as looked in each other’s direction. But once lunch was finished, they would meet in Malfoy’s alcove and spend the afternoon reading and chatting lazily as they lay in the sun-drenched windowsill. Oftentimes only Crookshanks purring broke the stillness as he lay between them, demanding to be pampered.

Hermione was surprised to realize how funny Malfoy was. He could convey complete diatribes by raising a single eyebrow. His wry commentary about life at Hogwarts made her giggle uncontrollably. She was fascinated by his outlook on life, which was completely opposite of hers in almost every aspect. She was surprised to realize that he was incredibly well spoken and could always back up his views with intelligent arguments and he appeared to enjoy an honest debate.

But despite their newfound camaraderie, she knew they still hadn’t reached any meaningful level of trust. If she were to bring up the fact she had overheard his comment about wanting to stand up to Voldemort, she knew he’d close like a clam and she’d never be able to get him to open up again.

Despair began to war with frustration. How was she supposed to save him?

The arrogance of that thought almost made her groan out loud. She knew she couldn’t save him. Malfoy was going to have to save himself. What she needed was to convey that he had alternatives path besides the one his parents had chosen for him.

But how?

She peered up from her book and noticed that Malfoy was absently stroking Crookshank’s furry stomach.

“Malfoy.”

He hummed in response, but didn’t look up at her.

“I was wondering if I might impose on you.”

His elegant eyebrow disappearing under his white-blond hair let her know that she finally had his attention.

“Normally, I take Crookshanks with me when I go to the Burrow. But he has this really bad habit of pouncing on Pig. Ron’s convinced that Crookshanks is trying to eat him. He’s being paranoid, of course, but I was wondering if I could ask you to feed the git while I’m gone. I’ll be back Sunday night, so it’ll only be for three days. You wouldn’t have to watch him or anything as he’s pretty much self-sufficient, but maybe you could feed him when he comes up here. I--”

“Breathe, Granger, or you’re going to pass out.”

She took a deep breath, then looked at him expectantly, but he remained silent.

“If you’re going home, I can--”

“No.” He cleared his throat once. “I’ll feed him.”

She could feel a smile growing over her face. “Thank you.”

He shrugged indifferently, but Hermione saw something she couldn’t quite identify pass over his eyes, something like gratitude or perhaps even wonder.

Providing him an excuse, flimsy as it was, not to go home had been a spur of the moment idea. She only prayed it would be enough.


	9. “Well, Ugly. I appear to have one more night of freedom. Any ideas as to how I should spend it?”

Draco casually sauntered along the dungeon corridor; his fingers lightly trailing over the cold stones as he took great care not to step on the ginger haired cat who was meandering between his legs.

“Don’t you have a tower to demouse?”

The pug-faced cat simply purred louder, seemingly happy with the attention it was receiving.

“I said I’d feed you, not entertain you.”

Crookshanks padded beside him, not appearing to be feel the least bit guilty about his demands.

“People used to fear me,” Draco said with amused resignation. “No, really. A look from me could make first years tremble for a week.”

The cat was unimpressed.

“I was unaware you had a familiar.” Sir Edmond, Dark Knight of Slytherin, raised an elegant eyebrow to express his disapproval as Draco came to a stop in front of his room.

“I don’t.”

The painting leaned forward and watched the cat rub its head against Draco’s calf, but didn’t make any further mention of the creature. “Your father has been calling all evening. He seems quite determined to speak with you.”

“Wonderful.” Draco looked down at the cat. “I don’t suppose you know the password to Gryffindor’s tower? Father would never think to call me there.”

The cat seemed to nudge him closer to the painting. “Fine. See if you get shrimp tomorrow.” Draco sighed. “Ugly’s bitch.”

The door swung open and Crookshanks scampered forward. Shaking his head, Draco obediently followed.

“Where have you been?” Lucius Malfoy’s annoyed face floated in the fireplace.

“Happy Wintermas, father.”

Lucius ignored the greeting. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I was studying in the library. The NEWTS are in five months and it is my intention to break all standing records, Muggle witch be damned.”

“While your dedication to your studies is impressive, your tests are no longer important, Draco. The time has come for you to take your place at my side.”

“What do you mean they’re no longer important?”

Lucius frowned. “Our Master knows your strengths. He doesn’t need a useless piece of paper to know your worth.”

“Not now, perhaps. But what happens once he wins? No one will take me seriously if I’m appointed to a position of power without the proper accreditation.”

“Do you really think anyone will be foolish enough to oppose his will?”

“At your urging, I have spent my entire life working toward these tests. Do you really think Dumbledore will let me back in school once I bear the mark? He may be a doddering old fool, but his eyes see everything within these walls.”

“You won’t be going back to Hogwarts, Draco.”

For a moment, Draco could have sworn his heart stopped beating. Crookshanks plopped onto his foot and Draco found himself oddly comforted by the cat’s weight. “When am I supposed to leave?”

“Gather your things immediately and go to Hogsmeade. Someone will meet you there.”

“I…I can’t, father.”

Anger lanced around the room like unleashed lightening. “You would defy me?”

“No, father. It’s just…I made a commitment which I haven’t completely fulfilled yet.”

“Pray tell, to whom do you owe such a commitment that you would dare to ignore my summons?”

Draco clenched his jaw and forced himself to take a calming breath. “Does it matter? Isn’t a Malfoy’s word his bond? Are we any better than the mudbloods he despises if we cannot be counted on to keep a simple oath?”

Lucius’ visage blinked at him in surprise, then took several deep breaths before continuing. “When is your obligation over?”

“I thought it would have been over this evening, but it appears it may not be until tomorrow.”

“Very well. I will expect you home by sundown tomorrow.” With that, Lucius’ face disappeared without even a farewell.

Draco sank onto the end of his bed, his legs no longer able to support his weight. If his father ever learned that his obligation consisted of watching a mudblood’s pet while she was celebrating the holidays with the boy who lived and a family of blood traitors, Cruciatus would be the least of his worries.

Crookshanks jumped on the bed beside him and promptly and pressed his head into Draco’s hands, demanding to be scratched. Draco snorted in amusement, by complied with the silent command.

“Well, Ugly. I appear to have one more night of freedom. Any ideas as to how I should spend it?”


	10. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised, knew the odds of his remaining at school were astronomical, but still she had hoped.

“How many are gone?”

Hermione collapsed in the seat across from Harry and tried to answer her friend, but she had to swallow twice before she could get the words to form. “There are only seven Slytherins on the train. Additionally, twelve Ravenclaws and five Hufflepuffs are missing. All of Gryffindor is accounted for.”

“Well, that’s something, I suppose.”

“I thought we had more time,” Ron said quietly.

“It might not be as bad as it seems.” Hermione anxiously leaned forward. Some of the missing Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs have muggle blood. If their parents heard the rumors, they might just want to keep their children safe at home. The majority of missing students might not have anything to do with allegiances.”

Ron slumped against his seat and frowned at her. “They just don’t trust Dumbledore to keep them safe. Brilliant, Hermione. I feel ever so much better. Thank you.”

Hermione started to protest, but Harry waved her silent. “No, Ron. She’s right. Why should muggle parents believe that Dumbledore can keep their children safe. Some muggle parents have a hard time accepting the concept of magic in the first place. I for one would rather they keep their children on the sidelines and out of harm’s way rather than having them stumbling onto a field of battle they don’t understand.”

“What are we going to do?” Hermione asked quietly.

“Once we get to Hogwarts, we’ll talk to Dumbledore and call a meeting of the D.A. to see where we stand.”

Hermione nodded, then stared out the train window, unable to focus on the passing scenery. Malfoy would be gone, of course. She knew she should have returned to Hogwarts as soon as the Christmas dishes were put away, but allowed herself to be cajoled into staying and returning on the train with the others.

She suspected that some part of her knew the rumors of the call were true and realized that this would be their last Christmas of innocents. Selfishly, she had chosen her friends over Malfoy. One week of friendly relations with a former enemy didn’t mean she would turn her back on her last chance for happiness. Still, she wondered if she hadn’t of lingered if she could have convinced Malfoy to stay.

When they finally reached the castle proper, she all but ran to the Great Hall to see if Malfoy was presiding over his small group of Slytherins.

He wasn’t.

She checked the library and the infirmary and even went so far as to browbeat a couple of Slytherin first years into checking their common room and Malfoy’s room, but they found nothing.

In desperation, she flew up staircase after staircase until she came to Malfoy’s niche, but like everywhere else she had checked, it was empty.

She knew she shouldn’t be surprised, knew the odds of his remaining at school were astronomical, but still she had hoped.

Defeated, she curled up next to the window and gritted her teeth as she blinked back hot tears. She would not cry over Malfoy. No doubt the prat was puffed up and proud about finally getting to stand along side the dark lord. Memories of him screaming at Harry that they were all on the losing side tormented her. But no matter how much she tried to take comfort in that memory, she couldn’t reconcile it with the quiet young man who had shared the sunny window seat with her.

Crookshanks startled her by jumping into her lap. She scooped him up and held his furry body against her face and finally released the tears she had been holding back.

“Damn it, Ugly, I’m not going to…Granger?” Draco Malfoy stopped beside her, looking stunned. He held a jumbo shrimp by the tail in each hand, like he was afraid they were going to suddenly come to life and try to escape. His face was a mixture of disgust and genuine concern. He seemed unable to move until Crookshanks wiggled from her grasp and batted at the closest piece of seafood. “Are you alright?” he finally managed.

“You’re here.”

“Yes.” He drew the word out so that it was three syllables long.

“I looked for you everywhere, but I couldn’t find you.”

“Did you try the kitchens?”

She shook her head. “You…you…didn’t leave.”

He frowned at her, then at the cat as Crookshanks took the second piece of shrimp from his fingers. “Did you or did you not ask me to watch this beast you call a pet?”

“I did.” She swallowed hard and tried to smile, but failed. “And now?” she whispered.

Malfoy ignored her question. “You’re five days late.”

“I know.”

“You could have flooed me, as a common courtesy.”

“You’re right. I…I apologize.”

“Being responsible for this hairy beast has caused me a great deal of difficulty.”

Hermione nodded, understanding everything he wasn’t saying, knowing that his excuse for being at Hogwarts was hanging by a thread. “He’s grown rather attached to you. I…I…hate to think how crushed he would be if you were to walk away from him now.”

Malfoy grinned haughtily at her. “I had already come to a similar conclusion.” His smile faded though as he watched the cat dutifully like all traces of the shrimp off his fingers. “What do you suggest we do?”

Hermione stood and quickly wiped the tears from her eyes, then scooped Crookshanks up and placed him in Malfoy’s arms. Taking Malfoy by the elbow, she tugged him down the hallway toward the stairs. “Come with me. I have an idea.”

~ The End ~ 

Yes, I really am leaving it here. I like the idea that things will work themselves out. It may not be easy or pretty, but I’m confident that Crookshanks has everything well in hand.


	11. Not Really A Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not really a chapter. Just a drabble I wrote in the same universe.

Draco glared at the trembling first year Slytherin and suppressed a sigh. “While I agree that Ian makes a superb rat, I’m pretty sure that turning your Ravenclaw tutor into a rodent breaches the spirit of the inter-house peace accord.”

Sarah’s face wavered between outrage and embarrassment. “But he pinched me bum. What was I supposed to do?”

A part of him wanted to congratulate her for unique solution, but he resisted the urge. Potter got testy when he thought Draco was ‘promoting their separatist past.’ “Yes. Well, please turn him back and I’ll deal with him appropriately.”

“I can’t,” the girl wailed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Draco felt the beginnings of a headache start to form behind his eyes. Potter was going to go around the bend when he caught wind of this fiasco, and the Weasel certainly wouldn’t help matters, as he was convinced all the remaining Slytherins were spying for the Death Eaters.

He wondered if he could send a message to Granger via Crookshanks. After all, Granger would understand Sarah’s talent, if not her impetuousness. Draco’s mood brightened considerably when he realized he now had a legitimate excuse to talk to Granger.


End file.
